Holding On
by HarmonyGurl1208
Summary: Sam's overcome with pain and he doesn't know if he can hold on much longer. :One-shot:


**Author's Note: **Because there is absolutely _no _hope for me.

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**Disclaimer: **_Supernatural_ does not belong to me. Thank all that is True and Holy is does not.

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Sam lets out a shaky breath, trying to keep his face from betraying the desperate anxiety he feels.

_I am stronger than this, _Sam thinks with gritted teeth even as the pain nearly overwhelms him. Sweat starts to bead on his forehead. _I refuse to let it win!_

Another bout of pain rushes his senses, and it lowers his defense just in time for the demon they'd been hunting to shove him in the chest. The force of the push sends the youngest Winchester flying back, but fortunately he just ends up crashing onto a large bale of hay.

He peers up into the demon's eyes, and winces as his abdomen shifts uneasily.

_Why does this have to happen _now? Sam thinks imploringly, just as he sees the demon smile and move towards him with purpose.

Luckily, the demon doesn't have a chance to lay his hands on Sam, as the large doors to the farmhouse burst open to reveal a pissed off Dean Winchester holding a shotgun with one righteous looking angel coming in close by his left.

In mere seconds the angel turns BAMF and smites the demon back to the lowest level of Hell it had crawled out from, leaving a still pain-swamped Sam getting shakily to his feet. The formerly demon-possessed man blinks wearily from his position on the dusty ground, and looks up, quite bewildered.

"I'm bewildered," he says. "What's going on?"

Everyone ignores him.

Dean's eyes turn to Sam, and his face hardens.

"You okay Sam? That bastard didn't get you or anything?"

Before Sam can say anything, a ferocious growl emanates from him, and he bends over, his arms wrapped around his middle.

"Dean..." he moans, and Dean's chest tightens with anxiety.

Just what did that demon do to his brother?

Heart pounding, Dean moves over to Sam, but the youngest Winchester takes a step back.

"D-don't come any closer," Sam pleads, and this time Dean turns to look at Castiel.

Said angel is looking at Sam, and Dean almost sees when the realization dawns on him.

"What? What's wrong with him?" Dean demands.

"Is someone going to explain what's going on?" the pre-possessee mutters, looking between his three rescuers.

Everyone ignores him.

Castiel turns to Dean, his face quite grave.

"Dean, this is something only your brother can handle. He must do this alone."

"Screw that," Dean snaps. "If there's anything I can do to help, I ain't leaving!"

This time, Sam falls to his knees with another low moan. Impulsively, Dean takes a step towards his brother, but Castiel grips his forearm in a steel grasp, stopping him from getting any closer.

"What are you _doing?" _Dean all but snarls. "Can't you see something is wrong with him?"

Another growl erupts from Sam's body, and when Dean turns back he sees Sam holding out a hand to him. The younger Winchester has fallen to his knees, and for some reason apparently can't stand back up.

"Dean!" he yells, his voice full of agony.

Overcome, Dean holds out his hand, too. He isn't _quite _sure how it will help anything, but he figures if he shows his support, things won't be quite so bad.

And then Sam's entire body freezes for the briefest moment...

... before the telltale sign of loud defication fills the air. It is gurgling and rough, and within seconds the putrid smell follows right after.

Dean's hand falls weakly to his side, and he only stares at Sam, wide eyed.

"Did you just... crap yourself?" He asks incredulously.

Sam falls onto his side and curls into a half ball, shamed at his defeat instead of answering. But his silence alone is answer enough.

Next to Dean, Castiel hangs his head as if in mourning.

"It was the enchiladas from earlier today," he explains, pure sympathy in his deep baritone. "They can be the purest of evil."

Next to Sam, the pre-possessed man's eyes roll in the back of his head and he promptly passes out from the fumes.

"Well... _crap." _Dean declares.

Sam groans again.

Crap, indeed.

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**Note: **I'm waiting for someone to dare me to write a story that _isn't _completely pointless and actually makes _sense. _But I'm not holding my breath.


End file.
